The Cursèd
by Yin2
Summary: The Four Plains of existence are bleeding together, suddenly earth's war of light and dark seems petty. Egyptian and Greek deities, ancient darkness, and a channeling of raw magic tug Draco and Ginny into one hell of a journey.
1. Default Chapter

This fic dabbles in a FEW different forms of mythology, Egyptian and Greek. I found that some of the myths are similar, that's why I'm making a few connections between the two. Please, if they bother you that much, run away, NOW. Also I'm inventing a few things for my own benefit. Aw, don't be upset, it won't be that rough of a transition; I'll try and make it as believable as possible. However, if you are well informed about mythology, and you notice a mess up, don't hesitate to tell me!!! 

Oh, I will also be simplifying things, seeing as Egyptian gods and myths tend to blend together sometimes becoming very similar. 

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Prologue

In the beginning there had been Nu: bubbling and frothing chaos, churning darkness. Rising from the swirling confusion, hills and plains of dry land had dotted the horizon as the first sunrise occurred. Ra, the sun god, wandered across Nut, the sky, in his manjet-boat, died and embarked on his night journey as the "corpse". As Ra died, Eros, a principle of order, rose. From Eros sprung Night and Depth. Eros then cast a binding spell on Geb, the earth, and Nut, the sky: they were to be married. Yet before the spell could be completed, Nu roared up once more, engulfing Depth and stealing it for herself. With Depth lost, the world divided into four different plains of existence. Leaving the realm of the Living Mortals as the face value of the earth, while the realm of the Spirits of The Olde, the realm of the Haunted Dead, and that of the creatures of Klat faded into the background, unseen yet existing. While the essence of Nu separated them all through the confusion, equilibrium was reached as each realm closed off from each other, never merging, never tipping the balance. 

And yet, for once, since time was there to keep record, the balance was tipping; the realms were bleeding. They were all bleeding, seeping and pouring their essence into the realm of the Living Mortals.

Nu groaned under the pressure: the plains were merging.

In the realm of the Haunted Dead, the Cursèd roared its ugly head, and each dark creature could feel the call deep in their bones: the darkness was roused from its slumber.__

Crawl out from where you hide …rise, take action…kill, destroy, sacrifice…I feel your hatred, your resentment, your anger…let the blood run deep into the earth, give me their power, make them pay!

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	2. The Call

First chapter, short. I just wanted something up, I need some feed back..please?

A/N: Plot is mine, anything you recognize probably isn't.

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The Call 

Draco Malfoy felt a chill start deep down in the marrow of his bones, finally causing him to shiver uncontrollably. His palms turned clammy as he tried to grip his broom tighter through his leather seeker gloves. His gaze became unfocussed as an onslaught of sensations overloaded his nerves. Unable to recognize this tangle of emotions, Draco Malfoy could only process pieces of it. The blind rage, dark triumph, and bloodlust seemed to fill his head, yet his soul recoiled and closed itself off in fear and anguish. 

He had never felt so alive. 

Draco's grip slipped, and he began to fall backwards off his broom. His eyes were closed as he felt cool air rushing past him, caressing his body. The call sounded again, stronger than before.

 Make them bleed, let them beg for mercy, let the bodies hit the floor…

A small smile flitted across his face – oh yes, surrender had never felt so sweet: with this surrender came not a promise of power, no, a feeling of real power. It coursed through his veins at the speed of the wind whipping though his robes, and hair.

The whole of Hogwarts' population gasped, as the infamous Lucius Malfoy's son plummeted head first from his broom to certain death. However, it was the series of events that followed that made people's spirits flutter, and created a buzz in the hallways for weeks on end. Even though they had all seen it, no one in Hogwarts could exactly describe what, how or why this happened…except for maybe Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy themselves.

Roughly two minutes before Malfoy slipped from his broom, Ginny Weasley felt the most frightening sensation course through her: it seemed to stem from the essence of her body. The creeping darkness, the shifting shadow, the thirst for vengeance and the craving for violence-all feelings that lay dormant, awoken only by Tom. And yet, it wasn't him, not this time, for the deceivingly silken voice did not accompany this feeling. No, it was a call darker, more ferocious, and more primal than any she had ever experienced. Nerves tingling, eyes darting, and magic barely held at bay, Ginny Weasley was not foolish enough to think she could resist the will that beckoned her. 

Her eyes were unfocused as she stood abruptly, jostling her friends, and walked stiffly down the aisle to the Quidditch pitch; the call drowned out her friends' questioning voices. A few steps before the banister, she looked up unseeing at the oddly slowly moving figure of Draco Malfoy. Ginny felt his surge of power, and how it was now mirrored in her own body. She jumped over the banister, and landed feet first on the turf of the field. She would later realize that she had several broken bones in each foot. The Malfoy was leaning back on his broom, fifty meters above the field; Weasley began to run. No one took notice of the girl sprinting across the field as Draco fell backwards off his broom in a head first plunge. 

Only when they saw his fall slow down, did they notice the girl with brilliant red hair with her arms extended above her head and her mouth open in a silent scream directly bellow him. He slowly descended, till his body was at her eye level.  

"Malfoy, your powers are of no use to us if you are dead." The youngest Weasley, Draco noted as he open his eyes to her monotone voice, and her flaming hair. Her eyes were expressionless, and right now, two copies of them were swimming in his vision.

Before he succumbed to unconsciousness, his thoughts, completely incongruous in his situation shifted to how Slytherin-like the little Weasley's statement had been.

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Please tell me how you want this story to develop. I need some advice, before I pick the direction; there are many ways this story can go…


	3. The Book of the Dead

A/N: Ok, so this took dreadfully long, I just have a lot of things happening right now. Hm, I hope this went ok, and that this isn't horribly boring. Enjoy.

Oh, and who knows how to get italics? They seemed to work on my old incomplete story…but not on this one. And it's ruining the presentation of the story! Grr! Please, help someone. There are going to be Book 5 spoilers, just to tell you, so go read it before you continue with this story. It's an awesome book, a lot of info, but its still great. 

The book of the Dead

The entrance to the temple was anything but welcoming. The temple was carved out of the inside of the mountain; the rocks that made its base were of a dark blue while the pillars were pure black. Covered in glyphs and hieroglyphics ancient and unreadable to anyone alive, the whole shrine was bewitched, cursed and scarred beyond reversibility to its once beautiful state. Though the temple appeared to shine like new, the stairs had aged accordingly: disintegrating, and oddly shaped, they did not appear safe at all. The air surrounding the building was stagnant, smelling freshly of death. To say something felt horribly wrong would be an understatement, but to believe it felt right would have ensured death before the first couple steps were taken.

However, positioned in front of the ancient stairs that lead to the temple, the team of four was not to be deterred: for long months they had prepared for this trip. This was the first temple of Sekhmet, goddess of war, to be built in which the complete Papyrus of Ani was rumoured to be hidden. The muggles had discovered what they believed to be this reputed version of the Book of the Dead in a pharaoh's tomb; but before the collection of books was placed in the muggle museum in London, England, curse breakers; explorers; and wizarding historians from all around the world came to test the book's origins. It was found to be a copy, and an incomplete copy to boot. It was not written by the hand of the legendary scribe Khasekhemwy, but of that of his daughter's servant: Ankhmutes. The original version was long sought after, rumoured to contain a prophecy and spells of the spirits of the Olde hidden in the drawings and text.

The four of them were silent as they reached the steps leading to the mouth of the shrine. Years of working together made their actions completely synchronized; they were Gringotts' best. The four humans looked roughly the same, only varying in height. There were three men, and one woman. Dressed in dark green dragonskin trousers, boots and gloves with thick robes of basilisk scales, one would never be able to tell their gender or even see their faces. Two drew their wands and stepped forwards. At both ends of the width of the stairs, the wizard and witch formed complicated glyphs in the air with nimble movements and quick strokes of their wands. An eerie translucent blue light shone though the gaps between the rocks of the man made mountain, Tequinte, as the crumbling staircase leading into the temple lit up: the passage way was safe.

Falling back into order, the curse breakers formed a diamond, with their leader in front. The hood and charms of the robe completely disguised his visage, but if it were visible, a dusting of freckles, a loose red ponytail and a dragon fang earring would be his distinguishing features. Up the stairs they walked, steps falling soundlessly on the aged stone. A large archway and the darkness beyond it marked the entry. The team made slow progress as they cast detection spells, created and destroyed magical barriers, and drew glyphs to assure a safe passage. 

The inside of the temple was distorted and disfigured. Moonlight from an unseen moon lit the hall casting odd moving shadows in the corners. A statue honouring the goddess Sekhmet guarded the tomb in the middle of room. It depicted the goddess of war herself, in all her glory, dressed loose billowing robes held closed by a belt made of human bones and long daggers. Her dagger was raised in victory, dripping fresh bloody. However, the most dramatic feature of the statue was the Goddesses expression: insatiably hungry. Her bloodlust was captured by the look of craving in her catlike eyes, and the manner in which her tongue appeared to licking the blood off her lips as it trickled from her slightly open mouth. Sharp canines were visible behind her thin lips and the Goddess's gaze rested on the tomb.

However, the statue was the only item in the room that was not disfigured or oddly shaped. The walls had symbols and what appeared to be claw marks raking down their lengths. The floor was splattered with a substance that appeared to be caked blood.

'But of course,' the wizard to the right of the leader whispered. 'Time has no relevance in the temple… by the looks of it, the sacrifice could have happened a day ago.' The team murmured in agreement for they all knew of which sacrifice the other member spoke: that of the priestess of the temple. 

It had been blasphemy in its highest degree, for the angry crowds of the near by town had sacrificed the priestess like they would sacrifice an animal, at the foot of the statue of her own goddess. The provocation behind such an act was speculated but that was all. Needless to say, there had been no survivors and the village had ceased to exist after that day. The Egyptian historians say that the Goddess Sekhmet walked on earth's ground that day and punished those whom had insulted her. The blood caked on the floor of the shrine was not only that of the priestess, it was also that of the foolish townspeople. The blood that pours down the goddess's front was an example of the fate of those who dared to trespass against her.

However, as soon as the last villager's prayer for death was answered, the temple became cursed with the dark intent of the dead. It sealed itself off from the world shortly after the sacrifice: a haunted picture of life so long ago. Yet, an old woman from the neighbouring town claimed to have visited the temple to ask forgiveness of the goddess for the sins of the human race. Beside the statue of the goddess of war, she said she had seen a dark tomb. The inscription, once translated into English, had read like so: 

_High Priestess Ani_

_Loyal follower of Sekhmet_

_Died for her Faith_

Her spirit will remain restless, 

_Until Sekhmet walks on mortal ground once more_

However, the inscription had never been translated because most had called the woman insane and not many knew how to write.

The three wizards and one witch surrounded the tomb, with one person on each side. The Papyrus of Ani was hidden in the exterior of the tomb. The question was how to extract it without damaging the tomb or getting cursed into oblivion. The curse breakers set to work stripping away the layers of curses, hexes, and spells cast upon the tomb, unaware that they were tampering with inhuman magic. A man with cropped brown hair cast a sensory spell (_Percepiscalo!_) upon the tomb in hopes that the Papyrus could be located and would extract itself from the stone of the tomb. However, he hadn't hoped for what was attached to the Book of the Dead. 

'Sweet Merlin's Beard', the man whispered. As the collection of scriptures had risen from the middle of the tomb, ten severed human fingers had reached up from the tomb and clutched the book. The team exchanged looks of worry, and had hardly enough time to raise their wands before a blood-curdling scream shook the foundation of the temple. The team was no longer alone: A body was materializing at the foot of the statue; it lay on its back, contorting and screaming. 

It was the sacrificed Priestess Ani.

The four humans stood rooted to the stone of the temple, watching the woman's last minutes with unblinking eyes. The site was gruesome and twisted: her eyes bulged as she was cut open by invisible, long dead captors. A symbol was carved into her forehead as the priestess became awfully rigid; the slashes on her skin overflowed with blood. Crimson lines snaked their way down her sides and pooled around her, at the base of the statue.

'Don't worry about that, it's just a vision, a projection', chuckled the witch. 'Look, her eyes are lifeless, but shit that had me really frightened for a moment. I guess it would have scared any inexperienced wizard out of here.' She eyed the fingers clutching the scriptures warily.

Her words spurred the team into action. The red-haired leader kept his eyes on the projection as he motioned to his team to remove the Papyrus of Ani from the severed grip; something was off, he could feel it. A chill was creeping up his spine, and the hair on his neck was standing up; they didn't have much time.

How right he was.

'FOOLS! Pitiful humans! Insolent children of man, you seek what you do not understand, and what is not yours. Now you will die, die for you ignorance!' 

The change was so sudden: it happened in a blink of an eye. The statue was no longer there, in its place the priestess stood, bleeding yet regal. She now stood at eight feet. From the corner of her mouth a trail of blood flowed. An aura of power surrounded her, and the team knew they were in the presence of a goddess. She smiled, showing her now sharp teeth. A blissful sigh echoed through the temple; the priestess's spirit was now at rest. The grip on the Papyrus loosened and the fingers sunk back down through the stone. The book dropped onto the top of the tomb.

'Drop to your knees, mortals! You should know how to honour a goddess.'

A feral grin appeared on the possessed priestess's lips as a long doubled bladed sword appeared in her hand. 'Now, who wishes to embrace death first?'

*Khasekhemwy: the two powers appear

*Ankhmutes: image of her mother

The spell is Italian, I don't even know if its proper, if it isn't…*shrugs* pretend it is. *grins* I haven't proof-read this…so mistakes may be aplenty.  
Anyone feel like being my beta-reader? The offer will always stand, so if you like the story…

Review please, it makes me feel special.


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